Attraction, desire, and sinfully beautiful, Mika Santana is a devil with the face of an angel. Despite her tragic past, she's never given up her ruthless pursuits for success and vengeance which leaves little to no room for matters of the heart. But...
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My brush wobbles on the canvas, blending the light pink tones with a harsh red. It gives the ballgown on the body a swirling effect, like she's running through the city. Her dark black hair is tumbling down from the bun on her head, faltering in the wind. Gloom clouds lurk in the sky. Ready to fill the streets with rain. My illustration of the Eiffel tower blends in with the foggy surrounding as if it were a million miles away.
The painting represents a sense of hopelessness. The woman is running to meet her soulmate under the Eiffel tower before he departs forever. At least, that's how I want the painting to be interpreted. But that's what I love about Art. Every photography, painting, and design creates an abstract outlook on life. It doesn't always have one message but a thousand.
I sigh, dropping my paintbrush into the mug of water. "I think it's perfect."
Like an alarm clock ready to go off, shouting rings my ear. "Muñeco!" My gaze floats to the sound of clicking stilettos. "Look at Turbo's outfit! Doesn't he look just so stinky cute?"
Mika rushes in a knee-length skin-tight black dress with criss-cross straps and an opening from her perky breast to her dangly piercing on her belly button. There's a golden chain on the curves of her boobs with a massive emerald jewel in between them. My breath gets caught in my throat by her beauty, that I forget I'm supposed to be looking at Turbo.
Our adorable light brown kitty sports a stark-white collar shirt and a matching white and black vest. It doesn't end there. Covering his ears is a black cap and harry potter circular glasses on his moss eyes. He opens his mouth, bending his neck to wet his white paws.
My eyes widen as I take him in my arms. "What did you do to him?"
Mika gasps, giving Turbo a quick Eskimo kiss. "Absolutely nothing. He was watching Mommy change and wanted to try on clothes, too. We went through a million outfits. Turbo was such a good boy for Mommy. Right, baby?"
Turbo purrs as Mika scratches the nack in between his ears. "Well, he does look adorable. I knew he was special when I saw him roaming the streets."
Mika extends her length by going on her tippy-toes and places a kiss on my lips. My heart does somersault as I nearly dissolve into a pile of goo. I have the same reaction every time. Her kisses are my kryptonite, my weakness. It doesn't help that she looks fucking stunning while I'm here in rundown sweats and a dirty apron.
"What have you been doing for the past hour?" She grins, clutching onto my biceps. "Can I look at it? Or do I have to wait for it to be done?"
Turbo claws at my skin as he grows annoyed at being held for too long. "Oww. Jesus Christ. You always scratch me, but not Mommy. You little brat."
Mika briefly side-eyes me before replying, "Well, for one-- he doesn't like being called a brat. It's pretty offensive."
A smile crawls across my face. "Oh, really? How do you know that?"
